


How you make me whole again

by bev_crusher1971



Series: Flesh for Fantasy [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coda for Episode 6x17, Emotional Baggage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-27 05:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12074745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bev_crusher1971/pseuds/bev_crusher1971
Summary: Peter Hale is pissed because someone blew up his cars. Now he wants revenge. But first of all he has to get cleaned up again.What's better than going to his boy for a quick jump into the shower?





	How you make me whole again

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this story is [counselor69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/counselor69)'s fault. We watched the episode together and between Peter getting blown up (more or less) and him getting into Malia's car, she said, "Don't you think Peter looks too clean? Think he already took a shower? With the Deputy?"
> 
> So, as a reward for setting this cutie on my desk, she had to make the beta. O:)

Pater Hale was pissed. 

Mightily pissed. 

He would find Argent and his brainless goons and would rip their limbs from their lifeless bodies as soon as he had pulled out their intestines and had strangled them with it. He looked down at himself and sneered. His clothes were torn and dirty and he felt as if he would need at least three showers until he would feel clean again. He came to stop in front of a familiar door and pulled out a key. 

He smiled, and for a moment he simply rested his hand against the wood. Then the smile slipped from his face and was replaced by a frown. He wasn't sure whether he would be welcome here after all those months. Probably not. But he would never knew if he didn't try. 

The key didn't fit anymore. Of course not. He sighed, and picked the lock in mere seconds. Impressed with his own skills and a little unnerved that his boy was getting so lazy as to *not* install any additional security systems, he let himself in and closed the door behind him. Gods, he needed to get out of this rags. He began to pull off his shirt when he suddenly felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against his ribs. He took a deep breath. 

Jordan. 

The smile returned, this time a little wistful. Without any hurry, he completed his undressing and threw his dirty shirt down. Slowly, he turned around and let his eyes roam over the body of his boy. It had been so long. Too long. Then he frowned. Jordan wasn't dressed in his usual Deputy outfit but in Jeans and a dark button-down. He looked amazing but shouldn't he be at work right now? 

“What do you want?” 

For a moment, Peter was stunned. Jordan's voice had never before sounded so cold. He tried to put on his arrogant expression again and answered, “I live here, too, boy. As you ...”

Know, he did want to say, when Jordan interrupted him with a harsh laugh and a poke of the gun against his ribs. “Not. Any. More,” the younger man gritted out, and his eyes began to glow. “You lost every right when you just upped and left all those months ago. The right to call this your home and the right to call me … that!”

Okay, this hurt. This really hurt. The way Jordan said 'that', it sounded like an insult. He straightened up. “Dont talk to me like that, boy!”

At least that was what he'd wanted to say but before he could even finish half the sentence, Jordan struck out and send him to the floor with a well placed right hook. 

“Don't call me that!” 

Peter remained on the floor, the eyes of his boy … no, of Jordan, were still glowing and he thought it better to try to calm him down. Of course he could take him down in a heartbeat but he didn't want to hurt him. 

“Look, bo...Jordan,” the younger man relaxed his stance slightly, and Peter dared to move. “I know that it wasn't okay to just leave you like that,” he ignored the snort and continued, “but I had no other choice.” 

The fist was lowered but not the gun. “Everyone else stayed,” Jordan mumbled, “everybody but you. One day you were here and then you were gone. No word, no good-bye. Nothing.”

Now the hand with the gun was lowered, too. Jordan turned around, away from him, and Peter slowly got up, rubbing his chin. It hadn't hurt too much and he had to admit that his pride was probably more hurt. 

“What do you want?” Jordan asked again, locking his gun away. 

“Take a shower,” he answered honestly, regretting it the moment the words left his mouth. Jordan's face hardened again, and wordlessly he pointed to the door. 

Interesting enough not the door to the bathroom but the frontdoor. 

“Go!” 

Peter sighed. “Jordan, look,” he began, but the Deputy interrupted him. Again. The second time since he was here. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. Normally, he would have Jordan over his knees right now, tanning his hide until he wouldn't be able to sit properly. But that was the point, right? Jordan *could* talk to him like that. He really had forfeit the right to discipline Jordan like that. 

“I said go, Peter.”

“Jordan, please,” and this time he meant it. He swallowed. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Jordan gazed at him long and hard. And finally, *finally*, his shoulders sagged down a bit. For the first time he seemed to realize his former lover's state and frowned. “What happened to you?”

“Argent blew up my cars,” he said indignantly, “can you imagine that? My beautiful Shelby 1000 Cobra. Only 100 had been built and I had two of them.” He held up two fingers. “Two! And he destroyed them both.”

“Are you hurt?” Jordan asked, sounding worried. 

Peter shook his head. “No. Lucky for me, I didn't sit in any of them.”

“Why two?” 

“One was for Malia,” he answered, then he frowned again, “but she didn't want it. Can you imagine that? I buy her such a beauty and she simply throws the keys back at me.”

He huffed when Jordan just laughed at him. He didn't like to be laughed at. 

“You don't get it, Peter, do you?” he asked and now a little bit of the old warmth crept back into his voice. 

“Get what?” He was honestly confused. 

“That you can't buy Malia's love. Or her affection. Or her respect or whatever you expected to achieve with that car.”

“It just was a nice car,” Peter mumbled. “And I thought she might look good in it.”

“Good in it?” Now Jordan laughed outright, “We're talking about a car. Not about a pair of jeans or a dress.”

“I know that,” Peter answered, then he gazed down at himself and looked slightly disgusted. Turning to Jordan, he said, “please, b... Jordan, can I use your bathroom? I'm supposed to meet with the others in less than half an hour and I really would like to be clean.”

Jordan smiled, and this time he pointed to the bathroom door. “I guess you still know the way.”

Peter nodded, walked into the familiar room and closed the door behind him. 

~*~

Jordan took a deep breath. Jesus, he was back. Peter Fucking Hale was back. After months without so much as a single word from him, he just came waltzing in and demanded to use his shower. It had taken everything he had not to simply drop to his knees and return to their former relationsship. 

Now his former Master was undressing in his bathroom, stepping under his spray, getting wet all over, spreading his soap over miles and miles of silken skin and … 

“Stop it!” Jordan mumbled to himself but then his gaze fell on the ruined shirt on he floor. Peter would need a new one. No one could expect him to wear that again. Without hesitation, he went to the bedroom and opened the drawer that had always been his dom's. 

On top of the clothes was his collar. 

He reached out and touched it gently with one fingertip. With a wistful smile, he remembered everything they had done in their time together. Then his face hardened again. It was over. By leaving the way he did, Peter had shown clearly that their relationsship hadn't meant as much to him as it had meant to Jordan. He pulled out a new Henley, some Blue Jeans and closed the drawer with more force than necessary. 

Grabbing a fresh towel on his way to the bathroom, he simply knocked once and opened the door without waiting for an answer. 

And stared. 

Stared at Peter Hale's body which was still as perfect as he remembered it while he was opening the shower door, intent on stepping inside. 

“You're drooling,” Peter said with an amused voice and Jordan snapped back into the here and now. 

“I, ahm … I brought you something to wear. Didn't think you'd like to wear your old clothes anymore. And ...ahm, a towel. I brought you a ...ahm ...a”

Peter had turned around and somehow Jordan seemed to be unable to look at something other than the beautiful cock that rose slowly under his intense stare. Stuttering, he continued, “A towel, yes, for your cock … no, your body, and your … your ...”

He broke off, adrift. His knees trembled and he simply wished that everything could be as easy as it had been before Peter had just left. Left him. Left him alone with all his feelings alone. Nearly broken if not for the Sheriff who had been there for him whenever he had been short to breaking down. And now he was here again. And he had the same soft expression in his eyes he'd had so many months ago when they had talked about collaring. Had talked about a future together. 

“Master,” he whispered, helpless, and when Peter reached out a hand, Jordan walked over to him, sank down on his knees, rested his head against the older man's leg and felt complete and at peace for the first time in too long to remember. 

“My boy,” Peter murmured quietly, gently carding his fingers through his hair, “my sweet, beautiful boy. I missed you so much. Perhaps one day you can forgive me for leaving you like the coward I am.”

“Master,” Jordan breathed, and this time it sounded much more like himself. 

“Join me in the shower, boy,” Peter mumbled, and without thinking, Jordan nodded and got up. Once they were under the water, he took the soap A smile crept on his face. Jesus, he never thought he would ever have that again. Slowly, thoroughly, he cleaned the older man's body. Washed away all the dirt, the grime, the soot, washed his hair until the water running down that sinewy body was clear again. 

“You're ready, Master,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to the shoulder nearest to him, “ready to go again.”

He reached past Peter to close off the water, when he found him suddenly pressed against the cool tiles of his showerwall with Peter Hale pressed tightly against him. 

“What do you want, my sweet, sweet boy? What can I do for you now?” he whispered, pressing little, teasing kisses wherever he could reach. 

“Let me suck you,” Jordan breathed out on a rush, “I so want to suck you right now. Want to feel your hard cock in my mouth. Want to make you come. Want to swallow your come. Want to make you happy.”

Peter groaned and mumbled, “And then I'll jack you off, my beloved boy. Jack you off until you come all over my hand and scream your ecstasy out as loud as you used to.”

“Yes, yes,” Jordan answered with a nod, “may I, Master, please?”

“Yes, my boy,” Peter replied, but stopped Jordan when he wanted to sink down. “Not here, though. I don't want you to hurt.”

Jordan's heart skipped a beat at the care and he nodded, turned off the water and they left the shower. Quickly, they patted each other dry until Peter finally put a hand on Jordan's shoulder and gently pushed him down. 

~*~

The moment those sinful lips closed around his hard cock, Peter moaned loudly. It had been so long. Too long. Much too long. And he knew that he would come in an embarassingly short time. He gently rested his hand around his boys throat, feeling every swallow, every breath. He didn't warn Jordan when he was ready, didn't give him a sign. He just came with a deep sigh, emptying himself down his boy's throat, smiling when he felt him swallow everything. 

For a few long moments they remained like that. Jordan at his Master's feet, Peter caressing him lovingly. Finally, he knelt next to him, grinning when Jordan's eyes flew open. Leaning in, he kissed him for the first time since he had entered this apartment. 

“I guess I promised you a screaming orgasm all over my hand, right?” he asked with a teasing smile and Jordan simply nodded. Peter reached out and closed his fingers around the straining erection of his sub. Then he leaned in and kissed him again, deep, hungry, consuming and in mere moments, warm semen covered his hand as Jordan pulled back and screamed out his orgasm. 

Peter pulled the young man close again and held him in his arms, stroking him while he trembled through his afterglow. Murmuring sweet nonsense, he held him tight and caressed him, stroked over his hair and pressed gentle kisses to his head. When the tremble turned to an occasional shiver, he asked quietly, “You back with me, love?” 

Jordan nodded in his arms. “Yes,” he answered, equally as quiet, “yes, I am. Thank you.”

He carefully untangled himself, sat on his haunches and pressed a quick kiss to Peter's mouth. “Doesn't mean you're forgiven completely.”

The smile on his face took the sting out of his words. 

“Didn't think I was,” Peter answered truthfully. He cast a quick glance at the watch and cursed slightly. “I have to go,” he said regretful. 

Jordan nodded. “I know,” he answered and got up, holding out a hand to help Peter up. Silently, Jordan handed him his clothes and helped him dress. 

At the door, they kissed again and Jordan asked shyly, “Will you come back this time?”

Peter looked at him, took in every line of the beloved face, and nodded. “I will,” he promised. And knew that he would do everything to keep his promise.

With one last kiss, Peter exited the apartment and minutes later he opened the door of Malia's car and sat down. Closing his seatbelt, he said, 

“What's the hold-up? I have a lot of revenge to plan.”

The end


End file.
